


Memories

by richhousewife



Series: Addict [2]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 08:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17864174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/richhousewife/pseuds/richhousewife
Summary: Inuyasha is a sex addict. His constant repression of childhood memories doesn't help."My adoptive father used to fuck me. That’s the vulgar truth if it. That’s the big secret. I hated it—I fucking hated it. I hated him. Still do. Every time I think about it, every involuntary flashback that had me crippled where I stood with bile burning in the back of my throat, eyes watering from the memory, I hate him with all the strength and vigor I hated him with that first time.But none of that would change the fact that it happened. Hating him didn’t help how bad he messed me up in the head. Didn’t help how much of an absolute freak I was—craving sex like a bitch in heat when it had been the very tool that had cut me so deeply for years—fucking years I dealt with it. Years longer still I kept it inside: the big secret. Because talking about it, thinking about it, hating it—none of that would change shit. It happened.And now, I am who I am. Nothing much more to it than that."





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Re-uploaded as part of a series as opposed to chapter by chapter.

My adoptive father used to fuck me. That’s the vulgar truth if it. That’s the big secret. I hated it—I fucking _hated_ it. I hated him. Still do. Every time I think about it, every involuntary flashback that had me crippled where I stood with bile burning in the back of my throat, eyes watering from the memory, I hate him with all the strength and vigor I hated him with that first time.

But none of that would change the fact that it happened. Hating him didn’t help how bad he messed me up in the head. Didn’t help how much of an absolute _freak_ I was—craving sex like a bitch in heat when it had been the very tool that had cut me so deeply for years—fucking _years_ I dealt with it. Years longer still I kept it inside: the big secret. Because talking about it, thinking about it, hating it—none of that would change shit. It happened.

And now, I am who I am. Nothing much more to it than that.

* * *

 

Kagome did have a legal pad today—go figure. However, there were notes already written, sprawled in slanted cursive script and spanning every line unto the bottom of the page. Her fingers tapped minutely, nails a baby pink this time, warm grey eyes waiting for me to settle into my seat before speaking.

“Good afternoon, Inuyasha-san.”

I grunted. This whole arrangement was getting incredibly long.

“I was hoping to try something different today, if that’s alright.” She offered, tone giving away no response to my lack of enthusiasm. There was a moment of silence before I realized she expected confirmation and so I shrugged, grabbing for those familiar candied jelly beans sitting between us both and stuffing them between my teeth with all the grace of a muddied pig.

“Today is our last required meeting,” she said, smiling, “Did you know that?”

“No shit?” I said, surprised, “It ain’t been four weeks already, has it?”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” She concluded, nodding sweetly at her own joke. I smiled despite myself.

“So, what’s the verdict?”

She cleared her throat at the question, professional mask sliding back into place before responding, “You are aware that I don’t make the final decision in your settlement? I am only here to provide a psychiatric analysis of your mental state at the time of request for legal separation.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I grunted out, waving her explanation away with a flick of the wrist, “So, what’s the verdict?”

Her smile was back, even as she shook her head in mock chastising, “I deem you mentally competent, Inuyasha. I am advising that you all move forward with the process of finalizing the divorce.”

I took a moment at that, a foreign feeling burning in my belly.

Her voice was soft then; careful, “How does that make you feel?”

I glanced away, mulling over the emotions rolling around in my head for a few seconds more, silence stretching between us.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

When I turned back to her, she was watching me; analyzing. It was my turn to clear my throat.

“So, what you got there?” I asked, gesturing to the notepad, clawed fingers beginning to tap on the wood of the armrest.

“Yes,” she began, patting her pockets for black rimmed glasses, “I’d like your permission to ask a series of questions.”

I glanced to her note pad then up again. Her eyes looked huge, amplified behind her glasses and watching me expectantly.

“Keh. What if I don’t wanna answer somethin’?”

“Then pass.” She replied, hopeful, “Its completely in your control.”

I nodded, shrugging my shoulders again and grabbing for another handful of candy. Why not?

“Where did you grow up?”

I paused, taking a moment to chew and answering between bites, “Suburbs. Something like twenty miles from here.”

“Are you parents still there?”

I debated the ‘pass’ option, swallowing the remainder of the candy before responding.

“It’s just me, doc.”

I could see her mind working as she nodded, “Were you raised by family?”

“No.”

She looked back down to her sheet only after glancing to words my forming fists. I forced my hands to relax.

“Who was your first kiss?”

I blinked at that, my mind drudging up the memory piece by piece.

“He was… another half-demon,” I said, smiling at the memory of it, “His bunk was above mine. I used to try and match his breathing when he slept, almost fucking died once.” I laughed then, “We skipped church one day and met behind this huge old shrine in the morning. Tasted like toothpaste and communion chips.”

I laughed at my own flashback, not seeing the psychiatric office any longer. I saw the blonde in his hair, so bright it shone white in the sun.

“Was this in a boarding school?”

I came out of the memory of it, looking to her questionably.

“You said bunks.” She clarified.

“Oh,” I stated, shaking my head, “Nah, at the orphanage.”

There was a moment then, where the unintentional confession remained floating in the air between us. She looked away first, glancing downwards only to pick her next question.

“Have you always been interested in boys then?” she asked, scanning her list once more.

“Uh, yep. Tried the other side once. Didn’t go too good.” I scratched my head absentmindedly, “Girls got too many… compartments.”

She giggled at that, “The first time you got hit?”

I scoffed, “Too many to count. But they hit me, I got ‘em back twice as hard. Never let nobody punk me.”

She nodded, “The first time you felt loved?”

I glanced away, counting the rips in my jeans for a moment. Love didn’t exist for me.

“Pass.”

I could damn near see her mind calculating, the grey of her eyes stormy with it. She continued, speaking now without the aid of her notepad.

“Why didn’t your marriage last?”

I laughed suddenly; pitifully, “This off the record?”

“My decision is already made.”

“No take backs?”

There was that smile again, “No take backs.”

There was a pregnant pause where I evened my eyes and tried to determine whether or not to believe her. I got a sudden vision of her slamming a petite fist onto the coffee table before us, screaming at me for being the horrible person my guilt tried to convince me I was. I shook my head of it before responding, speaking louder than intended even to my own ears.

“It didn’t last because we knew each other for two months and because neither of us had any fucking idea what we were doing and—” I stopped, taking a deep breath and leaning my weight against bent knees, “Because I fucked Sesshomaru and Kai fucking walked in on us that’s fucking why.”

I had a sudden surge of anger then—at her, at this office, at Sesshomaru, at myself, at the goddamn _world_.

“And you know something else? Fuck love. I lived this long without anybody giving a _damn_ about me and I’ll keep fucking going. I don’t need it!” I said, shouting now, bellowing with the madness of it, “I said I don’t _fucking_ need it!”

I clenched my teeth at that, my heart beat in my ears. The only sound in the room was my breathing, short powerful puffs of air shuffled through my nose and into the space between us both.

She gave me a moment of silence, a moment to calm and I closed my eyes with it, rubbing clawed fingers over my face in exasperation. I felt my shoulders slant from the tension.

“I—” I started, “I ain’t mean to yell at you, doc.”

She nodded, sliding the glasses from her nose and giving me a look that was all acceptance.

“I’d like to continue seeing you, Inuyasha-san.”

My heart dropped in my stomach, “You little _sneak_ ,” I accused, pointing an angry finger in her direction.

She responded with her hands up in mock defense, palms forward, “My earlier decision has not changed.” She countered, smiling encouragingly, “I’d like you to consider attending therapy independent from the court mandating.”

I scratched my head at that, “What, like, for fun?”

“In a way.” she began again, digging out a business card from a small pouch to her side, “Don’t feel pressured to make a decision today.”

Her business card was smooth with neat black print and loopy cursive lettering where her name was written, not unlike script written by her own hand. My eyes scanned the words printed—contact information and location of this office—until I got to the last line and choked on my own spit.

_Kagome Higurashi_ _, PhD._

_Specializing in Childhood Trauma Recovery in Adults_

* * *

 

“I got _the_ _fuck_ out of there, let me tell you.” I muttered, attempting to light my cigarette with shaking hands. I watched Sesshomaru from my graceless recline on his sofa—one foot slung over the top and head propped up on the leathered arm. He continued typing noncommittally, yellowed eyes scanning the screen in front of him and seemingly paying little to no attention to what I was sharing. But he heard me. I know he did. That’s what I appreciated about Sesshomaru—I could talk until my voice went hoarse and just be _heard_ , none of that other bullshit. It was refreshing. Sometimes all you need is to know someone’s listening.

“And its like… so what if some fucked up shit happened to me as a kid, ya know?” I took a drag of my cigarette, the _tap tap tap_ ing of his keyboard becoming a sound of reassurance alongside my own voice, “I don’t need some doctor psychoanalyzing me or whatever. Like that’s gonna change somethin’ anyway, right? Life’s been kicking me in the nuts for as long as I can remember, I don’t need to pay some chick three hundred dollars an hour to tell me so. I know I’m fucked up.”

I twiddled the burning cigarette between my fingers absentmindedly, watching the sky darken into night behind Sesshomaru’s head, “You know, when I was younger, I used to wish so hard to be somebody else.” I gave an empty laugh, “I mean every goddamn birthday, every shooting star, every night at 11:11, that was my one wish. When I was in the orphanage, there was this fucking prep school around the way. I used to see those kids walking up and down the hill to get to that school…” I took one last inhale, blowing out the nicotine through clenched teeth, “…And they had fucking everything, man. Fucking everything I didn’t have. I wanted to know what it felt like to be them. Then, after I was adopted, I _was_ them. Then all I wanted was to go back.”

I had the cigarette in between my fists now, crumpled to dust and shedding little pieces of tobacco like confetti on my chest, “Guess the Gods only hear you once.”

The typing had stopped, the silence almost deafening in my ears as I snapped out of the memory of it, eyes snapping to Sesshomaru through the fog of my mind. He was watching me, yellow irises almost glowing in the evening light and I could feel my face heating from oversharing, from words too late to be taken back.

He was stepping towards me now and I felt the breath still in my lungs, my muscles already burning in anticipation—hungry to forget. The first touch was soft, clawed fingers brushing the skin of my cheek, then a grasp to the jaw, strong and sure, and I closed my eyes with it, leaning into him with a desperation I would never admit to.

All I ever wanted was to forget.


End file.
